Such a Silly Feeling
by Jabbersense
Summary: 5/9/2014 UPDATE: Hi, everyone! Thanks for reading this! As this was my first fic in a looong time, I already hate it. Haha. Since my semester is coming to a close, I hope to have a re-gutted version of this story for you by the end of next week. Please check back and thanks again!


**A/N: This is my first little fic in a LONG time. I wasn't able to get a second pair of eyes to scan for mistakes, so I apologize for any typos. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Despite how bruised, bloody, and broken the Shepherds' bodies were, their spirits were soaring unrestrained. Chrom scanned the faces of his jubilant, if not recklessly ecstatic, brothers-in-arms and smiled to himself. His Shepherds deserved this victory and had every right to bask in its glory.

He specifically began to seek out his children in the throng. The father spotted Morgan clasping Nah's hands in his own and —though it looked like it caused them some pain to do so— were jumping and laughing hysterically together. He found Lucina and Gerome atop Minerva, her hands cupping his face while his arms tightly encircled her waist. They were very publically sharing in a very private kiss. Grappling with his violent paternal rage, Chrom forced himself to look away with a humiliating grimace.

There was one member of his family that the young lord couldn't see: his wife, Robin. This triumphant celebration should be in her honor most of all. Where had she gone?

The exalted son of Naga ran to find Frederick, hoping she at least hadn't escaped the watchful eye of his lieutenant and oldest friend.

* * *

Robin honestly wanted to contribute to the festivities. She wished she had the energy to be her naturally witty and blithe self, but she had died only hours ago. For now, she would just send her thanks and love from her hiding place in Ylisstol's castle— a dark corner of an empty hall. She was craving for sleep, but her second-guesses about slipping away from her companions were warding it away like a hex from Tharja.

In the meantime, she decided she would entertain and meditate on her thoughts.

Robin promised herself she would kiss and praise her babes right after her much needed slumber. She would say to Morgan that his intellect was growing fiercer everyday and that he may soon usurp his mother as head tactician. She would tell Lucina how honored she was to be her mother, to have a daughter that was a symbol of strength and hope like her father.

Her children's father, Chrom… Oh gods, she hoped he would forgive her. What she did was as dishonest as Gaius' thief lifestyle.

She was equally proud of her lord's brave leadership as she was ashamed of her own cowardice in lying to him. She had only lied as a last resort though. Chrom would've refused to march if he knew the truth. Every minute was precious and critical to their fight. Circumstances didn't leave room for debating choices. Secretly, however, Robin was pleased to know that Chrom's jeopardizing tantrum would've stemmed from his zealous love for her. It reassured Robin that her short, new life held meaning.

"What's the life of one person compared to the lives of thousands?" She uttered that seemingly heartless sentence merely twice in her life, and both times she absolutely meant each word. Emmeryn had prepared herself to die, not just for her family and Ylisse, but for all peoples and peace itself. Robin saw those intentions in Plegia, although, she didn't understand them until today. Emmeryn and her ideals were Robin's inspiration. How favored by Naga Ylisse was to have had such a saint as their Exalt.

Once she unleashed that final spell, the tactician remembered bracing herself for death to reap her with excruciating pain. Yet, instead of coming for her with swift retribution, death came as an absence. It was an absence of feeling, perception, and thought. In retrospect, Robin found it foolish for imagining death to burn like a hell-sent Bolganone. Obviously death should feel like nothingness. Death is simply the absence of life.

But unlike the void that befell when death swept her ephemerally away, returning from passing on left her with a different kind of absence. She experienced (there was no other way Robin could express it) her soul being yanked by a tensile red thread, causing her soul and body to come crashing into existence as one again. The process robbed her of every ounce of vitality.

As Robin tried to recall the intense rush, her mind slowly washed into quietness. The only sound she heard was the dull thumping of her own heartbeat in her ears. She was so tired that she was unable to humor or follow her thoughts any longer. Maybe now sleep would come.

* * *

Morgan was on the verge of panic.

With their hands still knitted together, he nervously drummed his fingers on the back of Nah's palm. His mother was missing. He was absolutely sure of it. There was no mistaking his father's alarmed eyes skimming the crowd for her, and witnessing him break away in Frederick's direction was all the confirmation Morgan needed. He cursed himself for ever leaving his mother's side. It was so irresponsible and complacent of him to assume that his father had simply stolen her away for some privacy. Gods! One of the first lessons he was taught was to entertain all scenarios, best or worst case!

The tactician-in-training, nonetheless, kept collected despite the deafening buzz of dread in his skull. His mother was the most important person in his world. He had already lost her twice, and his heart ached to be held by her right now. Unable to stand idle any longer, Morgan hugged Nah's and excused himself to find his elder sister while the little dragon girl stood there, confused.

He swept the crowd exactly as his father did, finally sighting Lucina and Gerome reveling with the other adolescences. He skillfully snaked a path through the masses to get to her, and tugged at her cape from outside the animated circle of friends.

"Morgan!" the blue-haired girl exclaimed brightly. "Where's Nah? We all should—"

"Mother's missing," interrupted the blue-haired boy with a hiss. "I saw father searching for her and then going after Frederick."

Lucina's face dropped, but carefully turned incredulous. "What about that leads you to believe mother is missing?"

"Because if not with us, where else would mother be but by father's side? And let's say mother wasn't with father for whatever reason. She would've told father where she was going. Otherwise, father wouldn't be sprinting after Frederick, the first person he goes to without fail for urgent matters." Morgan snapped back impatiently.

"Once again, your logic is flawless," Lucina answered coldly.

Morgan's adrenaline was waning, and his cross attitude was vanishing away with it. He glanced at his feet and gripped his sister's cape a little tighter. "Please come with me to find our parents, Lucy. I'm sorry belittled you. I'm just really anxious to see them, especially mother. At the very least, we should spend some time together as a family today."

"My dear Mo," Lucina cooed, stooping down to embrace her little brother, who was on the verge of tears. "You needn't say anymore."

She turned to Gerome, and he immediately gave her a polite and permissive nod. He hadn't heard what the two royals were murmuring about, but he understood it was a matter that didn't concern him and that the siblings needed space for.

* * *

When Robin finally felt her breaths become slower and deeper, the unexpected clicking of a single pair of footsteps shattered her trance. The sound ricocheted down the empty stone hall, assaulting her hearing from every angle. She groggily pulled the hood of her cloak over her face down further and curled into a ball. The once vessel of Grima prayed to Naga for the shadows to engulf her, so the trespasser would unsuspectingly pass on by.

Her prayer was not answered. The footsteps ceased to click and a voice rung out, clear and strong like a cathedral bell. "Robin?"

She smiled to herself underneath her hood. How she loved Chrom's voice. It was commanding and kind, the perfect voice for a ruler. One couldn't help but follow whatever it asked.

"There are better places to take a nap than the dark corners of a castle you know. Give me your hand."

Robin could just make out the shape of her husband's hand, extended exactly like the day they first met, but her vision was blurry because of her fluttering, protesting eyelids. Behind her stoic face and unbeknownst to Chrom, Robin's heart was laughing in delight at her husband's clever gesture.

Wordlessly, she placed her hand in his.

* * *

The blue-haired lord immediately sensed that something was amiss by his young wife's much-too-weak grip. Robin's actions were always deliberate and filled with conviction, so this fragile touch of hers scared him. Distraught, he heaved her up with such force that her exhausted legs gave out from underneath her before she could even stand.

He gasped in horror at his own carelessness as he caught the poor woman against his chest. He slowly sank down onto the cold floor, his cape and her cloak melting into a tattered pool around them. Chrom flipped Robin's hood off her limp head and kissed her forehead apologetically.

"Robin, you damn fool! If you're ill, don't hide! Why didn't you come to me?"

A small, forlorn hum of acknowledgement was his only response.

He felt her forehead and neck. She didn't feel warm. In fact, her skin felt cool to his touch. The bitter taste of fear bubbled at the back of his throat. Supporting her limp head with one hand, he peeled Robin's white hair from her face with the other to take a better look at her.

Though her face was dirty, it was unscratched. Bruising was starting to pool under her eyes and across her nose from where a spell had smashed her in the face. Chrom wiped some dried blood off her upper lip from the subsequent nosebleed the spell had caused. Even likes this, she was still lovely.

Robin was the essence of unselfishness, dedication, and love. It was her birthright to become Grima, but instead of choosing to die an arrogant God, she chose to die a humble woman. She was a true reflection of Emmeryn. If he couldn't be worthy of Emmeryn's ideals, Chrom was so thankful he married someone who was.

He gingerly pulled his better half into the crook of his neck and buried his face into snowy her hair. She smelled of earth, sweat, blood, and tears. She smelled like war, and Chrom instinctively held onto her tighter. Memories of holding Robin's empty body flooded him, and his heart broke for the second time that day.

The rolling tears stung the slashes on his cheeks and irritated his black eye, but he ignored the discomfort. He wept bitterly but silently, all off him trembling. He found it unjust of Naga to put such good people through so much suffering, even if they could bear it. He prayed, pleaded, and begged her to take Robin's entire burden and place it on him— anything to make her life easier.

"Please hold your tears," Robin requested gently.

Her voice was so weak. Chrom almost doubted Robin had actually spoke, but she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his back. The man held his breath, as if letting it out had the power to break her. She sank herself deeper into his embrace, sighing.

"I lie to you, and now you cry for me? I cannot… You should be furious with me. Please be angry with me and, please—" Robin paused as static fizzled in her tired head, disconnecting her thoughts. "Please don't let go. Hmm, you're so warm."

"You silly girl," Chrom laughed his through his tears at his dazed tactician. "You were willing to sacrifice yourself to save us now and all to come. I was never angry. How could I be anything but inspired and proud? I'm proud that I love you and that you love me."

He received a small, happy sigh this time. Chrom and leaned down to kiss his wife deeply, being patient and gentle with his her slow movements.

"Come fall asleep with me, Chrom?"

He savored his name on her lips and reciprocated her gesture, "Every night for the rest of our lives, Robin."

He sealed the promise with one last kiss before scooping her up off weary feet to the nearest bedroom chamber.

* * *

"We weren't meant to see that," choked the princess from behind a huge stone column.

"I would gladly bang my head against a post again to forget that," moaned her brother.

Lucina shook her head. "No. We should be grateful mother and father love each other so."

"Lucy, come on. There's no need to be diplomatic around me."

"Very well… that difficult to witness," the elder conceded.

The younger snorted, "Even more so than when you and Gerome tried eating each other's faces."

"Oh gods! Mo! I thought no one would be paying attention in the chaos! Do you think father saw?"

"Everybody saw you two, Lucy."

Lucina turned the same shade of deep crimson as the hilt of Falchion, and Morgan giggled at the shame on her face. He took her hand and dragged his mortified sister out of the deserted corridor. Nah was probably offended by his abrupt parting anyway. Hopefully, she wasn't planning on charring him upon his return.

"Love," mused Morgan with an earnest smile. "It can be the reason to kiss in front of others or the reason to sacrifice yourself to conquer evil. Ether way, it's amazing how such a silly feeling can tie us all together."


End file.
